In F'r A Penny, In For A Pound
by kendrat199
Summary: Remy Lebeau has one last objective to complete, which could mean his freedom or his downfall. oReO-ness RemyxOroro . Set in movie-verse/comic-verse. Might as well say AU Alternate Reality . Feedback welcomed.
1. Chapter 1

_In F'r A Penny, In For A Pound._

**Disclaimer:** I don't own these characters, they belong to Stan Lee -worship him!-

**Rating**: T-for terrific

**Pairing**: Eventual Remy/Ro, OreO-ness.

**Relation to other stories**: None, independent read.

**Comic-verse/movie**? I'm using x-men II and III as a preface. Jean remains dead, but Scott is still alive (deals with x-men II), but there is still Warren Worthington. More comic-verse since there's characters that deal with the comics, and since I've never read a comic in my life. Also, I've twisted their backgrounds and such, so yeah, you either like it or you don't. AU.

Song: Sorry, I know you hate them. But it makes me comforted reading them in between the story. Enrique Iglesias "_Tired of Being Sorry_"

**Reviews**: -flashes smile- PUH-LEASE

* * *

I don't know why  
You want to follow me tonight  
When in the rest of the world  
With whom I've crossed and I've quarreled

* * *

Blood. That's what it smelled like. Bunsen burners with blue flames lit the dank room, highlighting the other ghastly horrors.A Chromatin (DNA) Isolation Lab laid in the center by a laptop set to 'sleep' mode only to have previously displayed an updated OSIRIS Property Explorer. Hallow crucifixes littered one of the many operating tables, heating a metal concoction to a sweltering 256 degrees Fahrenheit. Bloodied scalpels, clamps, dissecting knives, and skin hooks laid side by side with microscopes, their substituted slides filled with blood droplets and chemically-dryed skin. It was like a film noir, only lacking in black and white...the glint of bones and organs in canonized jars made up for it. Adjacent to the spacious lab tabletop were medical beds, only these had restraints. His eyes focused on the leather cuffs that held many wrists and ankles, while the doctor did what he did best, torture. He could still see the remains of blood-dried now- from the man or woman who attempted to writhe their way free.

A scream echoed down the hall. He knew what that meant. Someone made a mistake, there were little mistakes in a place like this. He heard something new, the sound of a fast-paced strip of leather hitting bone, hitting the marrow, forever marring the man's back. He was being flogged. Heaven help him.

"You know why I chose you, Gambit?" Red on black traveled along the stained floor towards black boots, to white skin-too white, as if there was no blood beneath-, to finally rest on red orbs.

"'Cuz you have an infatuation wit' me, righ'?" He gritted his teeth, expecting a jolt from the metal collar around his neck. He dared not scream, he wouldn't give him the satisfaction._ Nothing Happened _

A crackle resonated from the other, more mechanized and emotionless than anything."I chose you because you're the best. Your skills prove to be superb-"

"I'm honored-"

The man or something far from it continued, "You're the best out of the lot, better than Viper, Brainchild, the rest," he waved slightly to motion the never-ending list as if he had a minute militia,"and yet..." he breathed, short rasps erupting from his vocal cards, "I have this feeling, what you might say, 'in the pit of my stomach' that tells me you don't want to be here," he raised an eyebrow as if questioning his loyalty.

"What makes you tink dat, mon ami?" he said, pushing a few articles to the side, to lean against the edge of the table.

"I need you to do another thing for me," his red eyes narrowed, focusing on his servant, his servant that had a remarkable talent for completing objectives with tremendous progress.

"What is it dis time?" He continued, "Nevermin', why not give it to Sabretooth? He's more of a psychopathic killer dan I am." Yes, Remy Lebeau, the best thief known to mankind was just that, a thief, not a coldblooded murderer and it seemed as of late his 'employer' liked to confuse the two professions.

"Yes, well..Sabretooth doesn't have the..." he waited for another scream to end, it was a nuisance to have to talk over the noise, he made a mental note that a man didn't need his voice box to live..."finesse. I thought you'd want redemption and so after this, your contract will be terminated." Thin, pale blue lips turned into a somewhat slant-an honest attempt at a smile perhaps?- as he stared at Gambit, 'terminated' wasn't the word to use..not in this career path. He corrected himself, "You'll be set free."

His mouth was agape, had he heard correctly?

"Pardon?"

"I need you to travel to Weschester, to retrieve information, something you're considerably good at,"

"What exactly would dat be?"

"I need you to find out about an object called, 'Cerebro'"

"What's it to you?" _Too late_, he gotten away with his snide remark the first time, but to ask about business that wasn't _his_ concern, that was beyond ignoring. He felt it. The jolt as it cruised through the metal bondage through his skin, towards his skeleton damaging the nerves that were responsible for the sensitivity to pain. He convulsed as his hands shakily grabbed at the tile floor, maybe if he clawed hard enough and gritted his teeth forcefully, the pain wouldn't be so..agonizing. His body'd have to get used to it. It should've by now.

Hands clasped together in quiet contemplation. "Yes, well, it's none of your concern. Just go to Xavier's school and gain their trust. Make them tell you what the device is, how it works, and your contract will be destroyed, you'll never have to be in my control again. Free to go back to your home, your friends..." he cocked his head to the side, not waiting for an answer, "And Gambit...do be quick about this, you know how I hate to wait long." Another scream.

"'ow exactly am I goin' to walk into a school an' gain der trust, hmm?"

A woman with purple hair and purple pupils walked lightly passed him, her hands resting at her side in a somewhat militant fashion, a cat-o-nine-tailshanging weakly between her fingers. Aside from the bloodied camisole and slacks, she wore the same thing he had: a metal collar.

"Didn't you say you knew a Warren Worthington at the school?"

She bit her lip, not allowing her to speak. She nodded, her eyes staring at his metal boots rather than his face, his emotionless face that only knew how to contort in anger. "Talk to him. Pull some strings...make a record." She nodded meekly, and began to walk away-not too fast, not too slow.

"Psylocke?"

"Y..." she breathed, "yes, Mr. Essex?"

"Make it happen."

The dank room that was illuminated by the blue flames caught the red tint of eyes, lidless eyes that knew fear, and riveled in it.

* * *

cat-o-nine-tails_-a whip, usually having nine knotted lines or cords fastened to a handle, used for flogging. _

* * *

_Let's me down so  
For a thousand reasons that I know  
To share forever the unrest  
With all the demons I possess  
Beneath the silver moon_

* * *

Jean was dead, it was agonizing to think of it, one of his star pupils hidden in the ocean to never come back, to never make him smile again nor to ease Scott Summer's mind.

He had to push his personal dilemmas and sadness to the side, for the sake of the school. He needed another teacher.

"Welcome to Xavier's School for the Gifted," he heard him say to the young man, it sounded foreign to his ears, perhaps it was because he hadn't needed a new teacher in years.

"I suppose it's time you've heard a little bit more about this school..." He prepared the lecture, the speech, it'd be one he'd perfected over the years as he tried to turn mutant and human into a peaceful co-existent relationship.

"Ever since the dawn of mankind there have been people with special gifts. They have struggled to live in coexistance with humans and to find that they are anything but freaks or anything of the like with what society tells him. Quite the contrary. We house over sixty students here, hoping to hone on their skills relating to their unique powers and their strengths and weaknesses outside of their mutant gifts so that if they choose to, they can prosper outside of the school." He was pleased with his introduction. Couldn't be any better unless his faculty staff were there to add bits and pieces, especially Scott, the leader of the X-men, yet he knew that was a far stretch to hope for. He sighed. No, what Scott needed was to grieve over his wife, he needed to go to Alkali Lake and leave his sorrows in the lake where she died or else he would forever be broken.

The other teachers were at an Art Museum, much to Logan's utter abhorrence. He smiled at that.

"The teachers are off on a field trip, but you can meet the remainder students. The new term starts one week after finals, which are on Thursday and Friday. Consider this a...trial period. Is there any class you're particularily fond of teaching."

"French," he began to light a cigarette, but seeing the stern look on the headmaster's face, he opted to wait.

"Tremendous," he smiled. A true genuine smile.

"Let's meet the children then," his motorized wheelchair moved easily around the mahogany desk toward the door, his head casually turning to the side to make sure the young man was following.

* * *

_Eighth and Ocean Drive  
With all the vampires and their brides  
We're all bloodless and blind_

* * *

Girls, tons of girls in fact, sat on the floor eating out of metal bowls that contained kettle popcorn, while boys yelped to pass it on as they watched some sappy rated PG movie- since it wasn't "Movie Night" for the older teens for another five hours.

"Bobby get your own!" yelped Jubilation Lee. Her spiky jet black hair wisped to the side as she tried to move her body to allow her the ability to see the screen more clearly. _The Corpse Bride_ was on, and yeah she liked rated R movies just like everyone else, but Tim Burton was a classic icon when it came to macabre animations.

"Come on Jubes!" Bobby screamed, his hand grabbing at the bowl hungrily. If he made some his self, he'd have to go all the way to the kitchen, go to the cupboards, find the package, remove the plastic wrap, set the timer to 3 1/2 minutes, and then wait for it to cool, that was too much! He pretended not to care and when she loosened her grip on the bowl, he grabbed a handful and crammed it in his mouth.

"Hey!"

"MMMMMM!" he teased.

Anna Marie also known as Rogue smiled sheepishly as her gloved hand ran along Bobby's hand, trying to feel the warmth of his hands, but knowing it was futile. Her smile was grim.

Katherine Pryde also known as 'Kitty' sat by her boyfriend Piotr "Peter" Rasputin also known as "Colossus," and not paying much attention to the film as she watched his smooth fingers sketch an outline of a rose.

"Ahem."

Rogue pressed pause knowing that sound before. The sound was an attention-getter, simply put, a listen-to-Charles-Xavier-introduction-lecture-news statement. The guys were reluctant to look away, while the girls were the first to stare ahead at their target, not the bald-headed man who had given each a new home, but the visitor.

The door opened, kids sauntering their way here and there carrying bags of tiny gifts from the art gift shop. Their footsteps blocked another's.

"Children, I'd like to introduce you to--"

_**Crash **_

A porcelain ship skidded along the floor and landed at the man's feet, broken in two with port bow and aft separated.

"Never pegged yo' for clumsy, petite." He crouched down, his nimble fingers grabbing the merchant trinket in two hands, cradling it from further damage.

"Remy..." Ororo whispered. She walked towards the man in the leather duster, her fingers trembling as they stopped before his face, scared to touch as if he would fall apart and fade. Her fingertips pressed lightly, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath her fingertips...

She heard respected "ooooohs" from the children, but it was blocked. She stared at the man who she had hoped to have never seen again. The man who had promised seven years ago that he would never leave her, who had abandoned his promise and left her to the streets, who was the source for her desolation and her tears. A flash appeared quickly, once thought to be from a bright camera, but then accompanied by a loud thunder _clap_. The kids shrieked at the surprise and Logan stood in a defensive stance, while Kurt Wagner blinked at Ororo in shock. Her eyes had turned from their serene blue to an empty white. She turned to flee, to run into the dense vastness of the estate to let her thoughts and her mood to dissipate. A hand stopped her.

They stood there, in a silent pose. Her eyes gazing into his, words not being exchanged, but relayed, she attempted to show how much she truly hated him for what he had done to her.

Everyone gawked, not sure what was happening.

_Ororo, what is wrong, my child? _Xavier sent the message telepathically to Ororo Munroe aka Storm aka Weather Goddess, the one who was always in control, yet ...not now.

She glared closer into the orbs of Remy Lebeau and seethed at the thought. Brown. His eyes were brown. "Take those off, still trying to hide behind what society thinks of you," she spat. The contacts were covering his red and black irises, his sign of being different, it was an insult...no more than an insult to mutants if she wore a wig or dyed her hair.

She didn't wait for a response, she pushed passed him and the kids separated to allow her passage to her loft. It would rain later

"I see you met Storm already, ja?" Kurt said, his tail swishing back and forth anxiously.

Remy looked at the tiny broken vessel he had still in his hands and noticed a price tag. She didn't _steal_ it.

He felt something or some_ one _pulling on his thoughts. He strengthened his mental shields.

Xavier pondered. Why, with a teacher with the cleanest record he had seen, be so strong against telepathic minds, and why...was Ororo, a calm heart, so unrattled by his presence?

"You'll learn more about Mr. Lebeau later, continue watching the movie, while I give our new guest a tour."

* * *

_And longing for a life  
Beyond the silver moon_


	2. Two Sides Of The Same Coin

**Disclaimer:** I don't own these characters, they belong to Stan Lee -worship him!-

**Rating**: T-for terrific

**Pairing**: Eventual Remy/Ro, OreO-ness.

**Relation to other stories**: None, independent read.

**Comic-verse/movie**? I'm using x-men II and III as a preface. Jean remains dead, but Scott is still alive (deals with x-men II), but there is still Warren Worthington. More comic-verse since there's characters that deal with the comics, and since I've never read a comic in my life, I'm going to fabricate things. Also, I've twisted their backgrounds and such, so yeah, you either like it or you don't. AU.

Song: Sorry, I know you hate them. But it makes me comforted reading them in between the story. _Remember_ by Disturbed.

**Reviews**: -flashes smile- PUH-LEASE

* * *

**"Remember"**

_Sensation washes over me  
I can't describe it  
Pain I felt so long ago  
I don't remember  
Tear a hole so I can see  
My devastation  
Feelings from so long ago  
I don't remember_

* * *

"So here we are." Xavier's motorized wheelchair stopped momentarily as his right hand pointed at a small alcove. "This elevator carries you to the sub-basement, ground level where we are now, and the first level or second floor." He continued to move along the hallways as students bypassed them cautiously. _New student or teacher? _He heard their thoughts as they began to either walk up another flight of stairs or opted to wait for the elevator. He smiled.

"Yes, well, on the left are the boys dormitories where you'll be residing along with the teachers. To the hall furthest down is Scott and Je-" He stopped momentarily, his hands fumbling only slightly before his resolve took hold once more, "...Scott's room.And Nightcrawler and Warren Worthington's rooms are in the center aisle." " The door closest to us," he pointed to an oak door with 'Caution' tape imprinted across the frame-an obvious gag or joke- "belongs to Wolverine."

"Wolverine?"

"Logan's room. Each of the teachers or rather those deciding to become X-men have a codename."

"I see," which he didn't quite understand, but he'd inquire about it later.

He pointed to the opposite end of the hallway and said, "Those are the girls dormitories overlooked by our resident Windrider, but I didn't think I had to tell you that." He continued to mull around the various thoughts that made him yearn to switch subjects suddenly. His eyes casually glanced from the wooden doors to the man who appeared to have a history that he didn't lead on. "So how do you know Ororo?" A casual smile marred his less than optimistic thoughts. How could someone who cared about every living creature and be so selfless develop a different persona that was anything unlike her.

"Childhood friends." His brown eyes or rather his eyes concealed behind brown contacts continued to glance at each individual door, as if he could see through the wooden blockades, perhaps to pinpoint which one was hers.

"Ah."

Remy Lebeau looked at the man in the wheelchair and acknowledged that that was a facade. It was not a satisfied statement, something to end a question that nagged him, but simply something said that would eventually be brought up later.

"And this..." he pointed to a metal casing with an ingrained X in the center. It was heavily guarded and Remy Lebeau wanted to know why." is Cerebro."

The entry did not open, there was no entrance for him to find out whatever this "cerebro" was. He narrowed his eyes, _so much for hoping this be'd easy, _he thought annoyed. "What does dis "cerebro" thing do?" He felt it. A tiny little voice that echoed in his head, and then many more. It appeared as if whatever was behind the thick door was tugging at his mind, if anything of the like was possible. His body went rigid as he stood against the wall.

"It is a device that I use to detect mutants.Cerebro amplifies the brainwaves of the user. In the case of telepaths, it enables the user to detect traces of other mutants worldwide. " He studied the man to the side of him, and he noticed that he grew significantly paler. "Are you okay?"

"Oui," he nodded meekly.

His mental shields were especially impressive, perhaps he'd get the young man to take a few tests.

"Shall we continue then?" Lebeau nodded in agreement and Xavier mentally noted to definitely have a talk with Ororo over their new guest.

* * *

_Holding on, to let them know  
What's given to me, given to me  
To hide behind  
The mask this time  
And try to believe_

* * *

_**Crunch **_

She looked down at the altered ball point pen as the blue hue dripped messily along the essay. "Dammit." In an effort to change her thoughts of ill content, she had traveled to her classroom, the one place that belonged to her and her thoughts and no one else's.Lost in thoughts she would began to chew against the end of the pen. She attempted to grade an essay on the Hundred Years' War, yet she couldn't get through two paragraphs without her thoughts turning somber and vengeful. She'd tried to pick up where she left off reading dates of the 14th century blood fued, but it was unavailing. She mused that Remy's doppelgänger had come to haunt her, to threaten her of a time when she was much happier, yet accountable. She sighed.

"This has got to be the most depressin' thing I've seen," he gruffed. If she sighed anymore he'd probably end up jumping off a roof.

"Logan!" she stacked the papers together and hid them underneath a manila folder. In her pensive state she was unable to detect him standing there, but then again, when could she ever? She narrowed her eyes slightly, "What do you want?" He never talked more than a few words to her, and when he did it was to override her commands during a Danger Room session or when she was leading a team on a mission-Scott had been resolute and removed from leadership abilities during his sensitive 'grieving period.'

"Chuck wants ya."

"Charles," she corrected, "could have told me himself."

"Well, he didn't."

"Obviously."

"Whatever, just go and talk to him."

This was her moment. She could feel it. She breathed in and smiled wryly. "Didn't peg you as a messenger boy, Logan." She heard a distinctive growl in return and it broadened her smile. "I must say it suits you." _Snikt_

She left, her laughter echoing down the hall and in his ears..Wolverine-0 Storm-1

* * *

_Blind your eyes to what you see  
You can't embrace it  
Leave it well enough alone  
And don't remember  
Cut your pride and watch it bleed  
You can't deny it  
Pain you know you can't ignore  
I don't remember_

* * *

"Professor?"

"Ororo, do sit down." His brown irises gazed into her blue one's momentarily.

"I should be getting back to grading papers."

"On a Saturday?"

"The quicker the better."

"I think that's a futile effort Ororo, I don't need to see the weather to know when something's wrong with you."

She contemplated. _What to say? What to do to get everyone off her back? _She knew they'd ask her questions, probe her like a specimen at her little display earlier, so what if she lost control? She was human. She felt her hands clenching in annoyance. She didn't notice Xavier was watching her closely, gauging the emotions that quickly appeared and faded behind a mask of fabricated solace.

He struck a nerve.

"I gave your friend a tour, he seems to be pleased with the mansion," he murmured, his eyes gazing at her expression once more.

She laughed. His eyebrow arched at the meaning.

_Friend, Remy Lebeau was no friend, he was a thief, a liar, a manipulator, a sorry piece of sh--_

_"Why do you think so ill of him?"_

Her eyes widened slightly, she momentarily forgot about him being a telepath. A small smile was placed on his lips, one of concern, not of judgment.

"Do you remember how you saved me?"

_A seventeen year old steadied herself against the wall. She had seen her victim. A man... not just any man, a fucking lottery ticket waiting to be conned. Better yet, he was in a wheelchair. Not one to attack a crippled man, but he screamed 'rich' He was being pushed by a boy not much older than herself and she wondered why he wore red tinted shades in a place when the clouds blocked the sun. On the other side of him was a gorgeous woman, years older than Ororo, but gorgeous none the same. She was around her height, yet differed in appearance. Unlike her white mane and her brown complexion, the woman had fiery red hair -the type of red that many would try so vainly to get through abundant purchases of color dye-, a white, creamy complexion, and green eyes the color of jade._

_"Professor we've been searching here for days, are you sure you've found her?"_

_"Cerebro never lies Jean."_

_She eased out of the alleyway, a scarf wrapped around her head to make her look like any other creole in New Orleans, had it not been for her blue orbs of course-though she'd be so fast in swiping the man's wallet that one would not be able to mark out her description effectively._

_Success! She thought as her fingers seized around brown leather. She looked shocked. "Excuse-moi monsieur." She had created as much skin contact as needed in order to get close enough to snatch his belongings. _

_"Hey!" The boy in the red visor said as he saw her run off. She grinned, occasionally tossing her head to the side to smirk triumphantly. The boy went to touch the side of his visor before being stopped by a hand from the older gentlemen. Yes, listen to your father, she thought harshly. "Wait till Remy sees--" In her moment of taking glances back at the stunned trio she had collided into a man. Her wallet or rather the crippled man's wallet flew into the air, along with many others. She saw blue attire, and a hand seized her roughly by the collar. Police Patrol. _

_She groaned and mentally shrieked as he began to pick up various wallets, including his own that she had ransacked during his usual jaunt through Bourbon Street. "Looks like you're coming with me." And she felt it. She felt the cold iron handcuffs laced on her thin and narrow wrists and she thought of the embarassment that would surely arise when she told Remy out of her moment of independence, she had been caught red handed. The latter thought was more repulsive._

_She sat in a lonely cell, her fingers scratching at the decrepit walls, watching with a little satisfaction as peices of concrete fell away onto the unsanitary floors._

_Flash_

_Flash_

_Flash _

_She stared through the cell's bars and passed the guards that warded the cell. They held the photographers and newsmen away. She felt her blood boil. She wondered what would happen if she used her powers, only a little bit, just to scare them into submission. No, she thought, that'd make her situation worst...not that it could get any worst. More reports were coming in of how the mutie girl stole their wallets, broke into their houses, and some had proposed how she savagely killed a few "John Does." She was a pickpocket, someone who stole from those she believed to be above the average class, she dared not to break into homes nor worst, take a life. The stories of stolen wallets were only half true. There was a Thieves Guild in New Orleans and she couldn't possibly have stolen THAT much, it seemed that all the reports of missing cash and jewelry were taped to her case because she was the only one stupid enough to get caught. She was given three days for her to post bail and if not, she'd be sent to trial. The trial was in society's favor. If she were found guilty on even half of the accounts she was accused of, she'd never see outside incarceration._

_She spent the three days, her demeanor changing in the night when guards dozed, and where her tears and sniffles couldn't be heard in the offices outside of her lonely cell. She dared not use her powers, they weren't controlled, they weren't predictable. She couldn't muster the words, her lips couldn't form the sentence, her mind couldn't think of how to say it aloud. She shook._

_Where was Remy? Why wasn't he there when he promised..promised to be?_

_It was the ending of the last day, the day of freedom and she was too distraught to care. She had come to America, stowed away on a cargo plane from Cairo, escaped her village and her parent's tragic deaths to be left in a cell full of people who didn't give a damn about her, and the list only grew. She'd added and mentally wrote Remy's name in the cohesion._

_"Hey freak!" the man, a burly one banged the metal bars with his baton with satisfaction seeing her disheveled. Her hair was matted, dirt clung to her tear stained face. It would be sad to see had it been a normal teenage girl, not a dangerous 'thing' of a person. She looked up and he noticed with shock and disgust that her eyes...her eyes did't have pupils. White, like nothing. Her eyes were filled...with nothing. "Y...you got a visitor," he hoarsely thought with daunting._

_She smiled. He hadn't forgotten about her. He hadn't thrown her into the shadows, to the vultures to pick her clean. She heard footsteps. It was about damn time...The rain stopped._

_The older gentlemen wheeled his wheelchair towards the cell, having heard how the guard treated her so callously...it perturbed him so. He was closely followed by the boy in the red visor and the woman with the fiery red hair. They stood on either side of the older man, the boy's arms crossed in silent contemplation and the other trying her best to be welcoming. "Hello," they all seemed to say in unison and she kept her lips shut. She didn't know English, that's what she told herself as they attempted once more... but then.._

_"My dear, why do you look so forlorn?" _

_Her eyes widened. She looked between the three and passed them. Who had said that? Their lips were shut. No one spoke. She, Ororo Munroe, Stormy as Remy liked to call her, was off her rocker, she lost her nerve, she had gone mad. _

_There it was again. _

_"I do not mean to harm you child."_

_"Who are you?" she thought back. Her eyes locking onto his and his onto hers. She stared at the boy and the woman, wondering who they were, what they wanted from her._

_"I an Professor Xavier, and I'm here to release you."_

_"Thanks, but I'm waiting for a friend." _

_"I do not see him here, do you?"_

_She thought of excuses, explanations, alibis. No, he was not there._

_"What do you want with me?"_

_"_I remember Scott protesting as you were brought back with us and we gave you a room. You weren't used to being in such a large house before, I had thought that you were going to steal from me and take off," he laughed_. _

She smiled at the memoir. "Poor Scott. I was so unused to his company and Jean's that when I wasn't hurling lightning bolts every time they attempted to strike up a conversation, I'd speak Swahili and a few French phrases to leave me alone."

After she learned to control her powers thanks to Professor Xavier, she had bonded with all three. She had told them of her life in Africa, her parent's death as an airplane crashed into the hotel they were staying at, and in turn they had related their biographies. A bond formed between them, they were her new family, and she noticed as the years went by that she forgot pieces of Remy, and it felt good. It felt good to know that she was forgetting him like he had done when he forgot her and abandoned her to society and to its jail cells.

"Remy was that friend I was waiting for." she thought somberly.

Xavier frowned, half of him sad that she was tossed aside and the other half, happy that he was able to save her from a life that would have been surely rough. Somehow through her tale he had moved from behind his desk and now his hand clasped onto her's, comforting, protecting...

"I wonder what life you would've led had he come," he blurted.

"We shall never know." Which was true. She never really did know, she used to spin tales and scenarios of him bursting through the school and whisking her away to New Orleans, their secret playground.

Her blue eyes stared into Xavier's brown ones, "Thank you for saving me..."

* * *

_Holding on, to let them know  
What's given to me, given to me  
To hide behind  
The mask this time  
And try to believe_

* * *

The kids were off to bed. It was a reprieve. The majority of the teachers sat either on the floor or on the sofa as the teenagers began to pop more popcorn and grab soda cans. It was movie night and they had about ten minutes before the screams, laughter, or tears would be shed.

Ororo casually poured herself a glass of water waiting for the seventeen and older kids to meet downstairs to pick some no-nonsence rated R flick.

"_We cannot achieve much with so small _

_penis. But you! Americans. Wow! Penis _

_so big! SOOO big penis!" _

In her moment of shock she had knocked over her glass, her water spilling along the countertop and dripping onto the floor. "What!!"

She glared at the screen. _Oh no._ She saw circles and squares and poor coloring. _South Park _was on.

"It's_ South Park,"_ Logan said, grinning widely. It felt good seeing her so flustered. Miss princess with her goody goody antics seemed to be holier than thou, and if a satirical, inappropriate show could knock her ass down the pedestal she created for herself, then he was happy. Wolverine-1 Storm-1

"I know what it is, it's filth." she retorted. She didn't hear the light footsteps aimed her way. She didn't notice his body mere inches away from her, didn't notice how he leaned in to whisper something only for her ears.

"Petite, Remy knows you've heard worse_, said_ worse."

_Something _inside of her almost made her smile at that little jib, but it was eradicated quickly, firing squad did its job. She didn't make a noise and moved from him before plopping herself on the couch beside Kurt. No one seemed to hear the little statement, all except Logan who wondered who this guy was.

_"At least my brother isn't Canadian, Canadians are pussies!" _the tv droned. _Snikt._

_"_Turn this filth off," he growled, and Ororo laughed aloud. Wolverine-1 Storm-2

"So who's turn is it to pick the movie," she asked.

Kurt Wager leaned over the couch and looked at the calendar that held a list of who was responsible for choirs on what day, who was given special privileges, who decided on what movie during 'Movie Night.' He blanched. "Mein Gott. Bobby...decides"

Many a moans resonated as Robert Drake aka Bobby aka Ice Man jumped up and did what Ororo was guessing as a victory dance. She groaned as well. She didn't feel like seeing half naked women and borderline lesbian kisses. He'd definitely push that rated R label to perhaps NC-17.

'We're going to watch Wrongfully Accused!"

She was shocked, appalled, traumatized that it was only rated pg-13 and so were the other teachers who knew him, save for Lebeau.

Everyone ended up laughing at least once at some part of the parody film 'Wrongfully Accused' with Leslie Nielson. Her favorite line was when Ryan Harrison told Lauren_, "We can go away right now. I pack light. Everything we need is right here in my pants."_

She continued to laugh at the movie as it ended. She felt his red on black eyes bore into her. She wondered why he had removed his contacts, but she wouldn't think of what if's, while the movie had the ability to make her laugh and temporarily forget.

"Okay, time for bed," she heard herself say through yawns, unable to keep her eyes open.

"AWWWWWWWWWWWWWW." They said, but knew it was useless. Slowly she got up and nodded in the men's direction, before she followed the girls to their respective rooms.

Once inside her loft, she collasped onto her queen-sized bed. The aroma of the cool air, the fresh air, and the scent resonated from budding flowers attempted to lull her to sleep.

_**Knock Knock**_

"Come in," she heard herself moan as she pushed her face against the pillows. It must have been Scott. He would come to tell her his feelings, his contempt for not being able to save Jean, and she would listen and she would hug him because like her, he never lost his control...he couldn't afford to.

* * *

_If I can  
Remember  
To know this will  
Conquer me  
If I can  
Just walk alone  
And try to escape  
Into me_

* * *

He whistled.

"Nice lookin' room Stormy. Who would've tought you would clean up like dis, neh?"

He watched her lift her head only for her to narrow her eyes and sink further into the bed. He walked towards her desk, gazing at a few things, nothing too gaudy, which he was surprised since he thought this place had changed her. He saw a small note. He read.

_"Dear Forge, _

_You still owe me that carriage ride you promised" _

The paper it was written on had a monochrome sketched rose as a background.

It sounded like nothing. A simple note to a friend. But he knew his Stormy. He knew that the letter was laddened with deeper connotations. He picked it up as he sat on the edge of the bed. He knew she wasn't sleeping even though she feigned the act of doing so. He stared at the date it was written. 2 years ago. "What's dis, chère?"

She hastily snatched it from his fingers, and placed it on the night stand. Her nimble fingertips smoothed over the wrinkles that he had created and stared at it. When he came back, she'd deliver it to him, and he would fulfill his promise, and then they would...

"An empty skeleton of a memory...like you." It was hard to say. She had thought it would be impossible to muster, but nothing was _impossible._

He stared at her. Had he heard correctly? His heart beat faster and he could feel it, the depressed feeling turning into anger. "Pardon. Why are you so mad at me?" He fumed.

She was indignant. Why was she angry at him. She could have laughed! In fact, she did. It started out as a small chuckle then turned into a guffaw.

"Why am I angry at you?" she sat up now. Stared at him as if her looks could kill. "How dare you ask me that when you left me to rot in jail, to other horrors. If it wasn't for Charles..." she swallowed the lump in her throat. All those pieces of Remy that she had forgotten were being peiced magically together.

He saw it. In a flash, it was there then disappeared. The pained look before it was hidden behind hatred, pure loathing.

"I didn't abandon you chère ...I was with Belladonna and--"

She didn't let him finished as a small gust of air threatened to push him out of her room. "Now that you've had a full tour you can leave and get the hell out of my life, Remy Lebeau!"

His hands slammed against the door frame, using the wooden panel to force himself to stay in the room. "Listen to me chère, it wasn't what you think."

_A 19- year-old Remy Lebeau walked side by side with the love of his life, a blonde belle of the soulth, though her looks were anything but innocent-it seemed her and Lebeau had something in common. It never worked they told him, they told her too. And both ignored the teasing, the warnings. Their fathers were at ends with each other. Remy being the heir to his adopted father's empire only known as the Thieves Guild and Belladonna Boudreaux the next in line to the Assassins Guild. It seemed that in a last effort to avoid a catastrophic event, anihilation of each other, they had proposed that the two be wedded to join the guilds._

_"I need t'invite 'roro," he heard him say casually as they walked through the various districts in New Orleans or "Nawlins' as everyone coined it. _

_"I was hopin' to have it in private," she bit her lip. Perhaps in innocence or in discomfort. Maybe it was love and shear adoration that he found it adorable. _

_A man lurked behind a column, fingers casually running along a blade, it was freshly sharpened._

_They kept walking. He, unaware of his surroundings and she, blissfully caught in the thoughts of a woman about to be married. They ended up in a one-way alleyway, one of the many that filtered sewage and left over food scraps from tenements and flats above. Men in black attire barded off the only entrance, the only exit. _

_"Remy!" she cried as she was pulled out of her lover's embrace, caught with an arm wrapped around her waist protectively and a hand with a sharp blade against her jugular._

_"Belladonna!" cards were pulled out in seconds before they were charged, the thin white embellished cards began to glow pink. _

_"Nuh huh," the man holding her said, while shaking his head mockingly disapproving. He was an excellent judge of distance. Even if he threw it from where he stood-a few feet away-, he had no way of knowing that it would also avoid Belladonna.._

_Men circled around him, the masked individual, and his love. _

_"Do it," she begged. The man tightened his grip on the knife, embedding it only slightly to let blood spill forth. _

_Regular cards fell on the ground and so did he as he heard her scream, "Remy," before being knocked unconcscious._

_A while later..._

_He had woken up slightly, attempting to gain his bearings as he gripped the chair and the leather straps that bound him. He moaned, his head was killing him, whoever knocked him out was a coward, but forceful-he'd give him that._

_He laughed, a mere day before his wedding and he was attacked. Talk about luck! He thought somberly._

_He heard laughter. Woman's laughter. His eyes widened. Could it be?_

_Belladonna flicked the knife back and forth casually, while humming a jazzy tune. "You're awake," she seemed to care..just for a second, but it came to pass. _

_"What's goin' on?" He began to blink back the black spots. He was lucky he wasn't blind or dead. Hitting the back of the head, or more importantly the Occipital Lobe could cause blindness and that wasn't the worst consequence._

_"Remy...Remy," it rolled off of her tongue so nonchalantly. She liked saying it, it was easy to say. "Did you honestly think this will..." she thought, "would...work? A thief and an assassin? Has anythin' of the like evah 'appened?" She smirked seductively. "We've had our fun...that we did, but..." She pulled up a chair to sit across from him. To see those eyes once more, one last time. "I won't allow my future empire share territory wit' such... debauchery." _

_She stood up, brushing her skirt lightly. The little slum they were in could've been cleaned up prior to their arrival._

_"Have fun boys," she casted one more smirk towards him before leaving the room. _

_Men began to surround the shocked Lebeau._

"What did you do Remy?" She had walked closer to him as he told his tale, only a few inches from him. Her hand reached out to grab ahold of his own, an effort to coax him into confessing, to know what had happened...to replace what she had thought.

"I did what I do best chère, I killed." She let go of his hand.

"You are no killer..."

"You'd be surprised padnat." He laid on her bed, his head resting along the pillow. "After I 'ad escaped, I tried lookin' f'r you. I tought somethin' might 'ave 'appened t'you since I didn' see you at all dat day." He swallowed, yet continued. "Tante Mattie was gone. She was always gone lately an' I tought she was off on Guild business, I knew yah wouldn't be wit' her. So I checked the places we used to 'it up an' found only confused shopkeepers. I was about to check the police department to file a missin' report-even though I knew it'd go unnoticed. But a 'oman came, she said dat she 'ad seen a mutant wit' platinum white hair an' a brown complexion goin' off with some old guy, a man, and a woman. She said she would show me where dey 'ad taken yah, an' I followed. " He stopped his tale, perhaps to think of how to phrase the last. To make sense of it all.

"I don' rememba the rest except wakin' up in a lab..."

They heard it. Ororo turned instinctively towards the door. It was a scream.

_"What's wrong with yah Bobby! Ah could'ave killed yah, yah stupid popsicle!" _

_"But you didn't!" _

_"But Ah could'ave!"_

_"Goodnight Anna!"_

_"Bobby!" he had attempted to kiss her again, a quick peck that was as harmless and untouchable._

Ororo laughed. When Anna Marie had gotten to the mansion she thought the poor girl would be so lost in low self-esteem and the inability to ever receive another's touch, and thought it a miracle that Bobby with his cockiness, seized the day and seized the Rogue's heart. She turned to the man's spread eagled. He looked paler. Was he breathing? His auburn hair fell over his face and his red and black pupils were open in shock.

"Goddess Remy, what did they do to you?" She had never seen someone so shaken up before, especially the man she had grown up with, the man who appeared invincible in her eyes, a force anything like a mortal, a deity amongst the living. She saw him lift his shirt ever so slowly to reveal besides the abs, marrings. Cuts, stab wounds, abbrassions, no, carvings were traced along his skin, and that was just his chest...what would his back reveal?

"How did you escape?"

"I did what I 'ad to do to end my 'contract'." He didn't tell her that what he had to fulfill was what brought him here, what brought him back into her life.

"What was it Remy?" There was only silence. He wasn't telling her something. It hurt. He couldn't tell her, was there ever a day that that would happen?

Her fingertips lightly traced the wounds, some thick and deep, some light, some still healing. Her fingertips were suppose to make them go away, to be an eraser of sorts. And she sobbed quietly because they weren't, and she sobbed because they were of her doing.

He felt it. Tears. Tears creating a ravine and splashing upon her fingertips, upon his flesh. Was she crying at his expense? Was she distraught because she had blamed herself. "It wasn' yo' fault chère." His hand pulled her down until she laid beside him, her head against his shoulder as he whispered soothing french words. He kept murmuring, "It wasn' yo fault," repetitiously till she was lulled to sleep and he was left to think.

"_Your contract will be destroyed, you'll never have to be in my control again. Free to go back to your home, your friends_.." It was music to his ears.

* * *

_If I can  
Remember  
To know this will  
Conquer me  
If I can  
Just walk alone  
And try to escape  
Into me_

* * *


End file.
